Practice Makes Perfect
by AcerbusEquinomin56
Summary: "When I first began playing music with Len...I never dreamed that I would learn so much...especially about myself..." - Len X His Accompanist - Yaoi


I was given the opportunity to be Len Tsukimori's accompanist at the beginning of the tournament because he sought talent. I merely played and played and wanted to be better than I was. It was seen that I could play very well, and so I was paired with him almost immediately. Whether this was his decision or the school's, I'll never know.

Working with Len had increased my own aptitudes for playing, for endurance and for pure brute practice. But…it had also stretched me in ways that I didn't think possible. He pushed me to work harder…and become better at what I loved…and love…moves. I didn't know what to think of it at first…but the longer I practiced, the longer _we_ practiced, the more it became clear to me.

###

The Third round for the Concours had come up quicker than anyone had expected and that warned everyone that from there on out, time was not something to waste. Of course, one person in particular never wasted time. He never bothered even wasting other's time or letting them waste it either. He'd use it to his advantage.

Len was only in the Concours meeting long enough to hear the theme for the next selection. By the time the words, "The Lost," had entered his consciousness, he already had the piece he wanted to play in mind. From there, he immediately attempted to escape as soon as possible. He was already formulating his ways to perform his idea.

He had already chosen to play Tzigane. I expected for it to be something difficult, something that would boost his already towering ego, something that wouldn't heighten his expectations further, but I didn't expect for the piece to be so demanding. There was the virtuosity of the work that had to be taken into account, but I was not used to the fierce and fiery rage that shook and burned through the music.

I was not accustomed to playing such things or to playing anything with the amount of passion that it demanded…and yet Len…I already knew it. He had the piece perfect in his head from the beginning. And, somehow, he was thinking of ways to take this incinerating piece and transform it into an icy tundra of his own.

That's the way he played…_icy_. He was of almost mathematic precision, any excess hacked away by his immediacy, every hint of sentimentality driven from his music. He was cold and accurate, as intense as his music, and I wondered how he could stand to be in such a mindset.

Of course, I could never interfere. I played…the way I thought music should be. And…he disagreed. And, little by little, I conformed and played the way he required me to play, as accurate as he expected and trying, trying to be as frigid…but I never could be. He was a blizzard…and I just wanted to play, more than anything, music... as I saw it…heard it…and felt it…

###

It was on the same day he was given the prompt that I was sought out and sent to the usual practice room we worked in. It was the middle room on the left. He was waiting in the room, not waiting for me necessarily as I could see his bow already slicing the air away in rhythm ribbons with his strokes. I was simply the accompanist.

I entered the room and he continued playing until I had set my things down and sat down at the piano, adjusting my seat on the bench accordingly; it always seemed to move. Even then he was concentrating on a note, a note more important in his mind than that of the entire accompaniment.

When that note ended, he finally turned to me in his usual frank poise. With as few words as possible, he informed me of how my next few weeks were to be spent.

"We're playing Tzigane."

He gestured brusquely at the sheet music lain on the grand piano's head board. I looked at it and opened the book, surprised and paged through continuously. I looked and looked until I finally came to a small set of notes. My accompaniment in this piece was hardly existent for much of the time.

I continued paging until I finally found a substantially longer part only to widen my eyes at its disturbing difficulty. I looked at him and his look hadn't changed.

"You have little involvement in much of this piece; I expect you to be able to handle your parts."

I only nodded. He turned his back to face me.

"We begin."

###

Hours had passed and I was slowly making progress with my contribution to the work. Len had it perfect in three tries, adjusting his tempo the second two attempts. At this point, the only work left was my own. I could only marvel at Len as he played and as I waited for my own role in the music to come into play. He…was a composer's dream. But…there was only that part of him that I couldn't admire. He just didn't seem as though he was alive sometimes…

He turned back in the middle of his playing and glared angrily at me as if on cue to my thinking. He noticed my leaning on my arm and snapped bitingly.

"You're nowhere _near_ being to a standard good enough to perform for the next selection and you're _daydreaming?_ What gives you the idea that you have time for that?"

I hurriedly repositioned myself at the keyboard, hands ready and my face burning.

"I'm sorry…" I muttered quickly.

His glare decreased only slightly as he returned to his ignoring me.

"Last bar."

###

Several more renditions of playing resulted in my finally playing a somewhat satisfactory run-through for a single day's work. However, I knew that he would expect more from me in the next few days. After a final few notes, he strolled to his violin case without a word to me and gently packed it up, almost lovingly nestling it in the velvet coated box. I stared after him thinking generously and stood, trying to pop my back for the long hours I had been practicing.

By the time I had stretched my muscles, he was gone and I was left alone. I looked dejectedly at my belongings and collected them, individually glancing at them, each one receiving a more and more furious glare. I almost wanted the music from the piano to set on fire as I picked it up last. I turned to go home.

###

The next day was the same. There was little change in it. Len and I practiced until the hours elapsed almost as though a biological timer had been set in his head. And, he would stroll, completely oblivious to me after that last hour, after that last angry glare that initiated my role in the music, off to replace his music, his instrument, his life, and disappear.

In the same way, I was angry with myself. For not trying to change the way the day had been; for not trying to change the way all of these days were going to be. I just could only chastise myself for not doing anything. And I looked after and outwards towards the door that he exited from. And I would sigh hope and I would breathe dreams. And then, I would leave again with pessimism on my ankles.

###

It was the day before the third round that a change was made. I had almost gotten to the par that Len expected, lacking in a few of the results that he wanted. But, there was something strange about him that day. He was…irritated, more so than he had been since the competition started. His music showed it, and he showed it as well.

He suddenly raised the bar higher.

I sat at the black lacquered bench with my hands waiting, expecting what we had been working on for the past few weeks even though his presence had become more threatening. I waited as he lifted his bow, his hand straining and far less controlled in stress. My mouth opened slightly.

The opening notes exploded out of his violin going at least twice as fast and as powerful as they had been. I quickly turned the pages in my music waiting to get to my part where he would turn his head to pass the baton. I waited, hoping that this was a joke and that he'd slow down.

It got to my part and he didn't slow down; nor did he turn to warn me. He simply plowed on ahead as I scrambled to make up for being late. I hurtled through the music not even managing to play all the notes, my hands beginning to ache from being forced to move so quickly. By the time the music finally ended he turned to me, he looked murderous.

"_What_ precisely was that?"

I was breathing hard at that point.

"What…do you mean?"

"_That_ _was trash._"

I looked up at him in shock. His eyes were not budging from any sign of being. He was serious.

"But…what do you mean?"

"We're going to try again."

I startled.

"What! But! Len! I can't play that fast!"

"Play."

And he did.

###

After numerous more attempts at double tempo, I was exhausted. My back had bent and my hands were twitching. And Len…hadn't even broken a sweat. I was propping myself up by now by leaning on the piano. Len had simply turned to look at me, there was no sympathy.

"When we play for the competition, I expect better than this."

I merely looked at him in pain. He head crooked and bristled over to the side, my heart still drumming. He folded his arms.

"Considering that you are in no fit condition to play any longer, there would be no real point in continuing practice."

He walked over to the table where his violin case was and began to pack. I knew I had very little time to work with. I stumbled to my feet and attempted to get over to him.

"Wait! Len!"

He hardly turned around as I managed to catch him at the door.

"Why…why did you play so fast today?"

His expression didn't change.

"You needed the practice."

###

The day of the third round of the competition was bustling. Most of the students from both the music school and the Gen-Ed school had become interested in the contest by now, and so, to be expected, the streets and the rooms were packed.

I saw Len only momentarily. He was walking, and somehow seemed much stiffer, but calmer, than he had been yesterday. I hesitated to talk with him, but thought it best and caught up to him as he cut through the crowd with ease. He knew how to move through people. They avoided him.

When I finally caught up to him, he had fixed his focus on his thoughts. I tried getting his attention, but regardless of anything I called to him, he never averted his attention from his concentration. I eventually gave up and assumed my position backstage, waiting for my turn in the competition. It came quicker than I expected as Len and I were first.

As his name and piece were announced, he and I strode to the center stage; I taking my place at the piano and he eclipsing me in his own right. I waited, ready for almost anything, never knowing what Len was capable of. He lifted the violin to his neck, taking a few adjustments so that it fit comfortably, before lifting his bow, placing it with water tension on the strings.

And then, my heart nearly broke.

When he moved his bow, the music that emitted from it was surreal. It was alive. It was far more incapable of being assessed than anything I'd heard in the practice room. I had only to play my part and the speed with which he played the previous day was the last etude he needed to perfect his performance.

The music was infinitely sensuous, filling the room with a foreign and cinder-scarred taste. Before long, the notes he sounded, he let flow, were consistently pervading the room until the very air was full of them. And I breathed them in and watched Len closely. He had changed, his performance much more sympathetic, somehow, perfect for _my_ pace that I had been going. And the music clung indefinitely to my ears and arms and heart.

I almost missed my cue when his head turned to inform me of my turn. I could only stare spellbound at his playing and into his eyes, and they changed considerably, at first in surprise at my own constitution, but then in tyrannical power and they spoke. And they bid me play.

And, almost from reflex and from sensation, I moved; snapping from the trance and then plunging back into it as my fingers moved with his. And all at once, we were playing together, my own hands working while I listened. The little staccato bursts from his violin mixed with the upper registers of my playing.

And I almost thought my keys mellowed his melody as it became lighter and more beautiful as the piece went on. By the time I had finally finished my own playing, the piece had ended, my daydream had finished out and the audience was roaring their applause. I looked up at Len who merely bowed above any clapping. And I stood and strode from the stage.

###

The other performers in the competition left their marks; they had their ups and their downs, several of which were inexcusable. However, I could not pay attention to them anymore. I was too concerned with Len and with my performance. I find that my stage fright worsens only after performing. There is but that anxiety to take care of…but…I'm too shy to ask most of the time.

But…I had to ask. If I didn't now, then I never would.

I looked at Len and tapped him on the shoulder, trying to get his attention. He barely moved, only just enough to give me his attention, which didn't seem like it lasted for very long.

"Umm…Len…"

"Do you have something to ask me or are you going to continue wasting my time?"

"Oh…I wanted to tell you that you played beautifully."

He didn't seem to react very much.

"I'm very aware of that. Is that all you had to say?"

"Well…I wanted to know if…well…was my performance up to par?"

Len frowned uncharacteristically deeply. His eyes grimaced, but there was a wisp of smoke that hissed off the ice.

"It was too emotional."

My heart hurt after that.

"Oh…"

Perhaps he noticed that my face had fallen or perhaps not. Whatever it was, he did react and continue to speak.

"But…"

I looked up.

"It met my expectation."

A small plume of vapor went up then and I was overcome with joy. That was all I needed then.

"Oh! Really? I-"

But, I never managed to finish my sentence, for at that moment Kahoko Hino began to play and Len's attention completely shut me out. And I wasn't able to talk with him for the rest of the night.

###

Len never saw me unless he had the next theme for the contest. He was always busy with something, a schedule, practice, something. And, I wondered if being his accompanist meant that he could simply replace me as easily as throwing me away. It felt like it anyway.

The next round was the last round and time intensified in its value. Len was eager to have the next prompt for practice. By the time he heard it, he had his mind set. But…that mind set was something that I knew was going to cause me pain.

I had actually heard third person that Len had gone to an amusement park with one of the other contestants…and what was worse, was that it was the same person whose playing had attracted his attention last selection. I…couldn't understand what had done it…but…I think I was jealous.

I was Len's accompanist and his partner in the competition and yet, I was used solely for that purpose…and then Len has a life engender right before him? And it's one that he apparently willingly devotes himself to? I…didn't know…what to do anymore.

It was in his usual manner that he began to work. He was already working on the music as far as I could tell. When I opened the door however, the music that I expected, to being bombarded with, had been replaced by serenity. The piece was compounding everything I could ever expect **not** to hear from him. And yet, here it was.

I could only go on the way everything had been set in its rut. I quietly closed the door, set my stuff down and resumed my place at the piano. He waited and turned, pointing to the sheet music. I looked at the score.

"Beethoven?"

"We'll start at your part."

"But…why did you choose Beethoven?"

"Something priceless…"

"What?"

"It means something to me. A different side anyway."

I could only flinch as his eyes glazed over, imagining what he could have been thinking of; I opened the book and we began to play.

###

"Play it again."

It was getting too long now. We had played this far too long and far too many times.

"But! We've played it so many times already!"

"_Play it again."_

There was fear in me and his voice was venomous. I could only wait for him to speak.

"I will _not_ tolerate mediocrity in my performance. _Play it again._"

I lifted my hands.

I would get it right, for my sake at least. He played perfectly; he wanted my playing perfect as well…and it was almost selfish…almost unselfish…and yet wholly devoted to music that he persisted the perfection.

Or perhaps it was that he simply could not stand any hindrance to his own talent; or that he would not have something to drag down this particular performance. Whatever the reason, he wanted my best; he wanted the most from the music…or at least as far as I could tell…

But there must be a breaking point.

###

"Try again."

"Two hours! Len! It's been another two hours!"

"That doesn't matter in the slightest. You still can't play the piece correctly, so we will continue practicing."

I couldn't take it anymore. I stood up, completely knocking the bench over and taking Len aback.

"What do you think you're doing?"

"You're asking too much! I can't play at the same level as you, okay, Len? I can't take this anymore!"

I began charging from the room only yelling at him from behind me.

"I QUIT!"

From there, I ran, not seeing anyone, not seeing Len or the others. I just could only run.

###

I had been walking for some time now…and thinking. My head was full and buzzing with fear and depression. I could only imagine what I'd done to myself; what I'd ruined in those few moments of collapsing creation. Everything had imploded.

It had been an hour or two and I was only just starting to continue my day, walking in a courtyard when I started being chased. And…it just so happened to be the person I practically least wanted to deal with at the moment: Kahoko Hino.

I could only think that she had caused Len to change so violently…and I couldn't take that anymore. I could only run as she tried to stop me. I managed to get into the building with her closely pursuing me. I hurried down the halls yelling back at her in argument.

"It's no use! It was hopeless from the get-go. It's just too hard to keep up with him! I'm not good enough!"

She called back, flying behind me in her high-heeled shoes.

"But you've worked so hard up to now!"

I could hardly keep myself from bursting as I ran.

"No matter how hard I try, he just **insults** me! Every time he tells me I can't play, I freeze up…and every time I hear **him** play, it intimidates me even more. I can't take it anymore!"

I could hear her groan behind me and I managed to stop just short of blowing my rage at her for everything I thought she had done. I was practically escaping when she said something else.

"I don't know how to say this…but I don't think Len meant to insult you."

I could only stop dead in my tracks. There was something about how she said it that made me trust her. She…truly wasn't as evil as I thought she was…she…was there and I only realized that she was there trying to get me back to Len. Why else would she bother doing so otherwise?

I turned around.

"You think so?"

She faded and spoke softly.

"Len's not very talkative, but when he does open his mouth, he can be really harsh. Sometimes it's hard to understand what he's thinking…"

I could have told her I knew this, but she continued.

"But when it comes to music, he always totally serious. And he'd never have taken you on as his accompanist if he didn't think you could play, right?"

I could only stop then. I hadn't realized it. But…she was right. I was Len's accompanist as well as he my performer. I felt different then and was stationary just long enough for her to grab my coat.

"Come on! Let's go talk to him!"

"B…But…"

And then music was in the air.

###

We both stopped. And Kahoko looked up.

"Hey…isn't that…that music!"

I blinked.

"Yeah…"

We walked over to the source of the music and watched, she in amazement and I in pain. Ryotaro and Len were playing. They were playing the very same piece that I had struggled so much with. They were playing where I couldn't…and they were playing perfectly, together and equally matched and balanced; they were a true team. And my heart felt broken.

My thoughts were strangely interrupted by Kahoko.

"But he's too **expressive** to be an accompanist, isn't he?"

I walked closer and noticed as well. She was right.

"He's adding his own arrangements."

I could but only say a minimum.

"Wow…Ryotaro's good."

Kahoko seemed to respond.

"You know…"

I looked over at her.

"…the first time I realized I had to perform on the same stage as those guys, I didn't know what to do. But lately I'm beginning to realize…that maybe I should see it as a **blessing**."

I was somewhat stunned as I continued to look at her.

"A blessing?"

She smiled and laughed in her voice.

"Yeah. I mean, maybe I'll never reach their level…but I've got a great accompanist and great support."

With that, I realized what I lacked. Kahoko was correct. There was always a misunderstanding between Len and I. He was always feeling alone, I think in his playing. And Kahoko was always learning. Len just taught. I could only wonder if she was right.

"A blessing, huh?"

"Yep. Don't you agree?"

My face would pull somber before I could reply.

"Yeah…maybe."

Kahoko spotted someone then and ran over to fetch her over here. I could hear her, "Nami! Get over here! Hurry!" The blond haired girl lit up inside when she saw what Kahoko was talking about, making her eyes zing with excitement. In a fraction of a second, she had a camera out and was practically documenting video in pictures the performance of the two we had been watching.

When she had finished with her pictures, she turned to me.

"Hey, aren't you Len's accompanist?"

I almost couldn't answer. I noticed Kahoko standing behind her frantically nodding yes. I supposed.

"Yes. I am Len's accompanist."

"Nami" practically shot out of her shoes.

"GREAT! Here, would you answer a few questions?"

I was a bit surprised, but I managed.

"Alright then…"

###

I saw Len later that day. He looked softer and was somewhat more aware of my being anywhere near him. I saw him in the halls. He stopped me this time.

"May I talk with you for a moment?"

I was a little surprised, but I agreed. We walked back to our practice room and he started speaking as I slowly sat down at the piano bench.

"I've been thinking about some things…and…after talking with Ryotaro…I thought maybe it might make more sense if I just told you what I told him…"

I waited, eyes open and attentive, careful to keep my face expressionless. He took this as acceptance.

"I don't really know how to talk to people."

I widened my eyes. He continued.

"You're capable of more. And I know that you're just trying to adjust to me, but you hesitate…I can hear your sound faltering."

I could deepen in color and slouch downwards. He looked at me.

"But…you're capable of more…and you can play even though I said you couldn't…"

My head stretched my neck considering how quickly I moved it. He went on.

"I can only say this because Ryotaro helped me figure out what I was saying wrong. You should thank him more than me."

I could now solely grow beyond what I had expected and smiled deeply. He looked at me confused and then widened his eyes in remembrance before narrowing them again.

"I want to know something."

I started and nodded.

"What is it?"

"Why did you look at me like that when we were playing Tzigane?"

I blushed and barely breathed.

"Umm…because…"

He waited. I couldn't hesitate any longer.

"I love…your music. I love everything about it…that you fill the room…that you take everything in…that you are your music…and I love it."

I looked up. Len was blushing…deeply. He looked away.

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"I…"

He strolled over to me.

"What is _that_ supposed to mean?"

His eyes were transfixing and darting, the ice cracked in shards. There was something else to him and he was there. I spoke truth.

"…Love you."

And I leaned up and kissed him.

###

It could have been until I died, but I don't know how long the kiss lasted. It could've been for a second, ten seconds, an hour; I may even be dead as I recall this. But, it lasted. I barely made contact with his lips, but I had reached up just enough to press into them. There were like Len; pure, untouchable, and hard to recognize.

By the time I had leaned back down, his eyes were shocked and I immediately frazzled, jumbling backwards as he stood there stunned. He was stunned. **He, **Len Tsukimori, was stunned. And I was the cause of it.

He then, backed away to my horror, lunging for his belongings and out the door.

I was alone again.

###

I went home and waited, thinking of what I'd done; thinking of what was still possible in the world. I had just become empty I thought; completely and utterly empty. There was nothing left anymore.

I thought of why I had done it; why I had bothered to try; why I had bothered to love.

And these things were what came to my mind.

I was taught posture, there must always be serious and extreme dignity in the sternness of straight work, but I couldn't bear that anymore with him. I couldn't hold myself to some rule bar, expectation when I was demanded out of the obvious.

It had to be broken to encompass what he wanted, what I wanted. And yet, I would not break it, for fear, for modesty, for being too shy to approach music, to approach him, with anything of an ego.

He absorbed the music; he took it in aristocratic poise, in presence. He consumed it. The austerity was there, but even that fell away to the music where it reigned alive and vivid. But, he wouldn't see it that way, for music was all he appeared to cling to, to have close to him, to basically have.

And I watched him as ice was everything and the music funneled through glacial cracks of weakness and passion and the irrepressible sense of being, of need to have the music. And he had it and expected it from me.

And that was what I saw when he played Tzigane. He was music and I loved it.

And now…I felt I had lost it all.

###

The next day I didn't return to the practice room. I just continued with my day, as if I had never been Len's accompanist at all, for I really didn't feel like I was his anymore. It just seemed as though he didn't want me anymore.

It was my turn to be surprised once more when I saw him coming down the hall, looking pissed off beyond recognition. I tried to bypass him, expecting him simply to ignore me. Instead, he was apparently looking **for** me. I was cornered before I knew how.

"**Why** precisely did you not come to practice today?"

I was a bit shocked.

"Eh?"

He went on as I looked at him.

"Fine**. We'll **practice now."

He grabbed my arm and pulled me along. I noticed his typical stride was off by several steps. It was almost groggy and unbalanced. He also seemed tired as though he'd been up all night. We reached the practice room quickly.

He pointed at the piano bench.

"Sit."

I sat.

He sighed and spoke.

"Look…I don't understand _why_ you decide not to practice with me after all of this. It's ridiculous and I absolutely will not tolerate it."

I looked up as he rubbed his head.

"But…what about…yesterday?"

He looked as red as I guessed I was.

"Yesterday was yesterday. Today is today."

Something inside me burned.

"What does that mean?"

Len blinked.

"What?"

I would not let this go, not after everything that had happened.

"I said, what does that mean? What do you mean by 'yesterday is yesterday'?"

"It means just what it sounds like."

There was a flurry, something building.

"So you're saying that there was no point to anything I said to you, that you don't care anything about what I told you yesterday, that nothing I said to you meant anything, **anything**?"

I stood up and marched over to him.

"Tell me now. Tell me now so I can just get this all over with."

Len looked away. I stopped and waited; he didn't turn back. I couldn't handle it.

"Dammit! **I can't take this anymore**!"

I made for the door.

"Wait!"

And I was pinned, somehow up against the door with Len leaning in, pressing me to the wood. He looked at me, somehow sympathetically, somehow without looking.

"What do you expect me to say to yesterday? That it never happened? That isn't what I meant."

I could hardly keep from doing anything then, from fighting, from crying, from anything. It was merely a point of tired breaking down. And yet, there were still words I could speak.

"What did you mean then?"

Len shook his head.

"I don't know."

And then, **he** kissed me.

###

The kiss, I know lasted only a few seconds this time. It was there for a few moments and then gone. He didn't stay against me either. He just walked away, back to me, before talking again.

"You can leave now if you want. I don't know what you want me to say."

I stood there, immobile and wondering. Before long, there was something to say.

"Len…what was that?"

Len dipped his head a few inches, a long breath hurriedly rushing out as he did so. He turned around, tints of deep embarrassment circling his face, not in blush, but in confusion.

"I…don't really know…"

I frowned this time looking at his scowl, emerging less genuine over the real look of red light. I stepped closer.

"…what did it mean…?"

Len curved his eyes, his irises sticking to the sides, his view almost permanently avoidant. He spoke as I took another step.

"Look…I don't know. I'm new…to all…of this stuff…and it doesn't make much sense to me…"

"Len…what about yesterday then? What did it mean to you when I…kissed…you?"

He looked at me then, my seeing his eyes where they had thoroughly melted. The poles had capped and condensed and sank down in liquid realization. After a moment, he smiled gracefully, finally finding his answer.

"I don't know…but I don't think I minded."

###

The selection went on. And I talked with Len more often than not, asking him about things and the music now that any problems as an accompanist were solved.

###

"I wanted to ask you about this part! Is the tempo okay here? I was wondering if I should hold back a little."

Len looked over.

"Let me see."

###

The last round of the concours ended spectacularly. Everyone was alive, and playing. Even the worst performances were redeemed. And Len…was…open. His music was far more open than it had ever been and I played his partner in it.

After his own piece had ended, he left to work on other things, helping Kahoko and various other activities.

When the competition ended, he and I could look at each other and smile, perhaps more in a secret sort of way. We weren't exactly on terms, or not on terms, but we were still there somehow. He was always busy and I was putting my mind towards anything and everything to getting better as a pianist.

But, every once in a while, even in the time that we didn't have, he and I would play together, and the music was alive and loved.

###

A/N: I honestly don't know what to say about this one…I really don't.

I had the idea and I was just writing in my notebook when pieces of it started to wing me in the cranium. By the time I started to write them down, the plot was already working in my head. And before I knew it, this came about.

Now, I must at least explain a few things about this.

First off, this is, in my opinion, the closest thing to a Yaoi canon pair that I know of for Len. I mean, Ryotaro _might_ work if you stretched it, but really, this is about the only thing I can see that actually **works. **(Plus, Ryo is just TOO straight!)

They never give the name of the accompanist, but the very first time I saw him in the manga, I KNEW that there was something between him and Len. Interestingly, I've never seen another fic that pairs the two…maybe it just never occurred to anyone else…

Okay, for everyone's information, I don't write Len. Honestly, this is the first fic I've ever written that I've actually warmed up to him a little…and I think the only reason THAT happened was cause I wrote it from this dear little thing's perspective. So, I honestly don't know about Len in this…hmm….

Also, I had to like majorly veer the plot because I misplaced the first appearance of the accompanist from the fourth to the third selection. There were small parts that had to be changed, but I think it worked.

Also, this is the first real fic I've written with Len in the pairing. I've tried writing some TsukiTsuchi and it JUST DIDN'T WORK! It actually imploded. I think it's cause I pair Ryo with Kazuki so much…I lurv RyoKazu…^_^

But, anyway, getting back to it, in the fic, I actually quote several scenes from the book. (Volume 9, I believe for everyone with the English version) I quote directly between Kahoko and the accompanist (I reeeeeally want to give him a name now…maybe Daisuke…hmm…cute…yes, from now on, he is Daisuke) in the fic and indirectly with the Ryotaro speak.

I was actually going to revise this and alter some of the LEN parts as well as the entire LENGTH of the story…but…after reading it again, I've noticed that it pretty much works well the way it is. I like it.

Much of the romance in this story stems from my own belief that music CANNOT be completely "mathematical" or "intellectual." Music is music, as alive and breathing and emotional as anything can be, perhaps even more so, considering it.

Creation is an unbelievably emotional process, not necessarily one of breakdown or hysteria, but of very complex and involved work and outpouring. It removes the fabric of doubt and of constraint to leap in the arms of inspiration…and how wonderful it all is…

From this I draw that love is plenty capable and vindicated in music and more explored, _through_ music.

…I know that much of that probably doesn't make sense, but please at least know this was one thing I was attempting to accomplish.

At the moment though, I am satisfied with this, considering it's really long; I'm writing La Corda again; and I managed to write Len in a romantic pairing without projectile vomiting. Please, give me a hug! I'm actually doing better now!

NOTE: However, I _**STILL**_ will _**NOT**_ be writing Len at the moment in ANY OTHER pairings!

…unless I think of one…

I honestly don't know if I'll ever write him in another fic…I don't know…I guess I'll find out eventually…but! I love RyoKazu most in La Corda…so I doubt it would be with either of them…hmm…

Also, have any of you actually ever **HEARD **the Ravel Tzigane? It's actually the main reason I wrote this fic. It is AWESOME! I suggest you listen to it.

Anyway, if I think of anything else to write here, then I shall tell you all!

Please review! It really does mean a lot to me when I get feedback on any of my writing! So, tell me what you thought of the fic, details! (^_^)

So, byah!

Note: I, personally, am not trying to attack or flame Kahoko or anything, so don't think I am. I actually like her rather as a character, but I think the most important thing that EVERYONE needs to realize is that, as a heroine in a reverse harem manga, she really ISN'T thinking about relationships at ALL. Really…it's more like her love story with music…and the people that brought her closer to it…and that's about it.

Or at least so far…(oh my soul)…


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